Hello from the Faroes

Apologies for the lack of updates from the North Atlantic. There have been a few technical difficulties with our apartment’s internet connection and the owners have only now been able to fix it.

However, that was a lesser problem compared to the modest comedy of errors delivered by the somewhat disorganised Atlantic Airlines. On (very late) arrival in the Faroes on Friday we discovered that my luggage, and that of about a quarter of our fellow passengers, had not arrived.

That left me without any change of clothes, my waterproofs, my hat, gloves and scarf, my camera charger, and a large bottle of Cragganmore.

The lack of clothing was felt most acutely on Saturday night at the Faroes v Italy football match, where the uncovered stands were fully exposed to miserable rain and cold wind. With only a thin, light jacket and a hat borrowed off Justin, I (and my one set of clothes) got absolutely soaked through.

However there was a sliver lining to the thick, grey clouds, in that the Italians were playing in conditions they were completely unused to, and were lucky to leave with a 2-1 victory.

The visitors’ unconvincing performance nearly turned to humiliation – on two occasions in the dying minutes the home side almost drew level.

So what would surely have been one of the Faroes’ greatest results was not to be. But given that more or less any side in the world would see little shame in a 2-1 defeat to Italy, the reigning world champions, you can imagine the delight and pride amongst the Faroese crowd whose team was drawn from a population of less than 50,000. It’s a very strong warning to the Scots for Wednesday night.

Aside from the football, it’s been a lovely few days. The scenery is stunning (think Shetland with sharper edges), the people are friendly and generally speak excellent English, and Torshavn is an attractive, compact town with colourful houses and free buses.

Thankfully prices haven’t been too oppressive either, barely above the upper limit of what you’d pay for things in Scotland. And the weather, apart from during the Italy match, has been brilliant – occasional mist, but mostly very sunny, and rarely cold.

And the holiday took a turn for the better late last night when my missing bag arrived, via Copenhagen. I wasn’t sure which I was happier to see – my camera charger, a change of underwear or the whisky. Though after a celebratory dram, I’d firmly decided.